The following week was one everyone would have preferred forgotten after it finally ended. Further relic hunts were put on hold; no-one was willing to leave the base unless absolutely necessary. Even Optimus felt compelled to delay his visits to Airachnid, receiving a stiff huff when he told her an 'incident' would force his attention away from her. It wasn't that she'd be craving energon while she waited for him, he'd noticed her stockpiling cubes and using most of them on Scorpia anyway, so her response surprised him. A small naive part of his spark had him believing it was because she'd be lonely, with only daughter and Dinobot for company. That thought was from what was left of Orion Pax though, and Optimus was too wise nowadays to trust him.

Though they felt like months condensed into sunrise and sunset, it took another two days for Bulkhead to exit stasis, and another three before Ratchet would let him leave the medical berth. The whole time Miko was glued to his side, ignoring stubborn vibrations from her phone or attempts by Rafael and Jack to distract her from her parter's condition. It was painfully similar to how Arcee behaved after losing Cliffjumper, except Miko had no on-site quarters to lock herself in. Wheeljack, on the other hand, hadn't returned since he saw Bulkhead's prone frame sprawled so similarly to a corpse, hearing Ratchet recount all the damage both his wound and the Tox-En poisoning did to him. He only asked for the name of the bot who had shot him, and glared at Optimus when he refused to say before leaving in a trail of almost tangible fury.

Even when Bulkhead awoke to find his neck cables bunched in Miko's arms and her face nuzzling his cold metal, the only strength he had was in his vocaliser. He confirmed Optimus' suspicions that Starscream ambushed him on an Insecticon just as he found the 'relic' that turned out to be a canister of deadly Tox-En. Starscream knew better than to directly confront the Wrecker with such a noxious substance in his hands, but Bulkhead was eventually forced to rid himself of it as it started to drain his strength. Just as he managed to heft it over the lip of a volcano, Starscream took the chance to fire from the air right through his back armour. His spinal strut was the only thing that stopped his spark chamber being vaporised by the shot, and even then there was significant denting around the casing.

With time being the Autobots' most precious resource, they couldn't afford to give Bulkhead as long as he needed to truly recover. Every day that went by was one with the Decepticons potentially digging up more relics, becoming more impossibly powerful with each one at their disposal. All the Autobots had were the Phase Shifter and Immobiliser against legions of drones and Megatron himself.

Though Ratchet was the one most reluctant to have Bulkhead back in the field so soon, he gave him exercises to work energon back into his numbed limbs and to encourage his healing nanites to work faster on his weakened nerve conduit. And Miko occupied herself with making sure he did them all, no matter a sudden joint failing or his cables threatening to snap under stress. She was like a much smaller, fleshy version of Ultra Magnus, and even back on Cybertron Optimus never had much success countering the commander's orders when he believed he was in the right.

With that thought in mind, Optimus tried to stop himself from interfering even when Bulkhead collapsed in the middle of a push-up. Just before he entered the base's elevator he heard Ratchet reprimanding Miko for pushing the Wrecker too hard, and the beginning of a very emotional rant that he'd rather not eavesdrop on.

The setting sun was still bright enough to singe his optics before they could dilate their reticules- to be expected from spending the last few days submerged underground and scouring through the databanks of the drone tucked under his servo. It seemed Soundwave was smart enough to not let Laserbeak absorb any vital information about the Decepticon's plans, but there was at least some evidence of where they would strike next for the relics, as well as some codes for comm frequencies Vehicons were known to use. But most useful was what could be done to the drone before returning him, namely implanting a tracking beacon and a virus cleverly crafted by Rafael that would transmit any data screened through Soundwave to the Autobot's own computers. Soundwave would surely scan Laserbeak for any tampering before attaching him, but with luck he shouldn't recognise any human-written coding as malicious.

Optimus almost lamented giving the drone back, having seen what Laserbeak's coding made him capable of and imagining the advantage his assistance would give the Autobots, but there was no telling the lengths Soundwave would go to to retrieve him, or if it was even possible to switch Laserbeak's loyalty as easily as just reprogramming him. Better to willingly hand him over than risk hostility.

The Prime descended from the plateau, settling himself on a crumbling ridge of rock before re-activating Laserbeak. The small lilleth-like bot fluttered weakly in Optimus' hands; jolting once, then twice, before leaping up into the air and shakily hovering. Though the drone was essentially awake, his homing beacon and surveillance equipment was disabled. Laserbeak wouldn't know where the base was or cause Soundwave to come racing towards it until his nanites managed to fix his subsystems for him. But even without his sight, Laserbeak still shot forwards as soon as he was sure he was free, soaring far off to the south. Optimus watched him go up until he disappeared into the glare of the sun, swallowed up by the dying flames, and prepared to ascend back towards the elevator when he overheard what was unmistakably Arcee's voice, albeit much softer than usual.

"Miko?"

There was an unconvincingly quiet sniffle. "Uh... hey Arcee," the young human said less than a league from Optimus in his low hiding place. "I was just..." There were some seconds of silence where she tried to come up with an excuse that Optimus used to flatten himself more against the rock at his back. Eavesdropping was wrong, of course, but... ever since her outburst about Bulkhead, he'd been wary about speaking with Arcee. Time was usually the only cure for spark ache, and he wasn't eager to inflame her any further with some ill-spoken remark. But now he had the opportunity to hear both of them giving voice to whatever he couldn't perceive stirring in their sparks (or, heart in Miko's case), and he knew he'd be foolish to waste it.

"Sitting a little close to the edge, aren't you?" Arcee asked.
"Heights don't scare me," Miko almost snapped back.

"...But almost losing Bulk did."

"Scared you as well." Miko's voice was muffled, as if she was hiding her head. "You looked like you'd snap Optimus' head off."

Both Arcee and Optimus himself couldn't help a small huff of laughter escaping their vents. "Yeah, I... I was out of line," Arcee said. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry, cause... I know Optimus is just looking out for all of us. Just like how Ratchet is only looking out for Bulkhead... but you already knew that."

The Prime vented in relief, hearing first-hand that Arcee had let go of her overriding emotions. The femme's words seemed to have the same effect on Miko, as her reply had lost the sharp edge she'd carried before. "I guess so."

"Bulkhead's stronger than he looks, you know," Arcee went on. "Big guy like him... getting shot in the back is just another day on the construction site for him. And he wouldn't let a creep like Starscream off him, anyway."

Miko was silent for a moment, before speaking with a familiar chirp returned to her tone. "Was Bulk really a labourer, then? Back on Cybertron?"

"With his frame, I bet so. The bigger, bulkier bots were always put into the labour intensive jobs; mining, lifting, stuff like that."

"What did you have to do before the War?"

Optimus would have been on his way, with his fears now washed away, but the tiny part of him that was still a curious Orion Pax kept him rooted in place, just for a while longer. He himself didn't know much of Arcee's past before she came to Earth. "I was born into the Military caste, specialised for scout and saboteur missions," Arcee said, with a hint of pride. "Though, my job was mostly being a messenger before the War opened up a lot more avenues of work for me."

"And Optimus was a librarian," Miko stated.

"Data clerk," Arcee corrected. "Which... pretty much is a librarian." It was hard for Optimus not to feel just a bit slighted at the two femmes laughing at his inelegant origins. Megatron was a miner before he became a gladiator, yet anyone who laughed at him ended up with a plasma round where their spark chamber used to be.

It was when he realised he was comparing himself to Megatron that Optimus decided it might have been best if he left now. If only Miko's own curiosity didn't force him to freeze in place.

"...What about Optimus' sparkmate? Elita One?" she asked. Either Optimus' audios were tuning themselves high or his spark was starting to bubble up through his throat and melt against his processor. It was all he could think to explain the violent thudding taking over his helm just from hearing Elita's name. He didn't even know how the humans knew of her existence... unless Ratchet had shared the effect of his flashbacks with the rest of the team.

He heard Arcee hiss in air, intaking for a few long nanoklicks, and he was reminded of how much the femme admired his sparkmate from the sorrow that soaked her voice. "Elita..." Arcee seemed to choke at first, clearing her vocaliser thoroughly before she could go on. "She had a... very different upbringing. She was placed in the Art caste, since no other ones would have her."

"How come?" Miko asked.

Even though Optimus already knew the reason, he still felt dread at being reminded by Arcee's long sigh. "She was born without the ability to transform."

"Really?" Miko interjected, and Optimus could almost see her eyes going bug-wide. "But, your whole thing is transforming! Is that, like, even possible?"

"I know it's weird to think, what with Bumblebee's meltdown over losing his T Cog, but it happened." There was a scuff of plating, as he guessed Arcee was shrugging. "Some bots even removed their T Cogs willingly, members of the Militant Monoform Movement, really weird ultra-religious guys. Anyway, she had a cog, it just... didn't work for her. Something was wrong with her scanner, I think." Hearing Arcee speak of his sparkmate so casually, in past tense and only reminding him that she was lost to him... it didn't make Optimus angry. He wasn't sure what it made him feel, only that his digits were forced to clench themselves against the rock surface at his back and start grinding it to gravel. While he tried to expend the burning heat of energy building exponentially in his spark, Arcee continued; "Since she couldn't transform, there wasn't much hope for her getting into a high working caste. Her frame was too fragile to handle working in the mines, and any gladiator bots would have torn her apart the klick she stepped into the arena. She wouldn't even be allowed into the sparkling farms since her fault was genetic. So, her only option really was Art caste."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Miko said with all the innocence of someone who never spent a day walking through Cybertron's slums.

"Maybe not, but... it was no walk in Helix Gardens. For femmes, at least. Most mechs were lucky, all they had to do was design- buildings, furniture, armour, whatever. But femmes... they're like... what do humans call them... showgirls? Sure, it looked glamorous, all night spent dancing drunk, surrounded by mechs throwing themselves at your peds, but for many it was a death sentence. Those in training were lucky to get more than a breem of recharge a day- all the rest of their time was spent practicing, escorting, and... other things."

Now Optimus was angry. His optics, clenched close for however long he couldn't tell, flew open to see the air in front of him shimmering from the heat exiting his vents.

"Like what?" Miko asked so naively as Optimus pulled himself back up to the plateau, only dislodging a few stones in his vault upwards. The two sat at the precipice edge of the base's roof, completely blind to his presence, Arcee kneeling in the dust and winglets twitching uncomfortably.

"I... don't think Bulkhead would want me telling yo-"

"Arcee," Miko deadpanned, hands going to her hips. "I'm fifteen. I know how the birds and bumblebees go- or whatever you call them on Cybertron. You're not gonna scar me for life or anything."

Something must have finally alerted Arcee as Optimus walked to the elevator, each step struggling to stay calm when all he wanted to do was slam them into the ground. Her helm inclined towards him, optics going wide with a guilty glint in them. Though a foreign kind of fury was gripping his vocaliser, Optimus gave her a neutral nod; both as acceptance of her unofficial apology, and permission to go on. Just because the past pained him didn't mean it should stayed buried forever.

"Well... okay." Arcee took in a deep ventilation, and whatever she said to Miko was lost behind the elevator doors sliding shut, and the sound of his spark threatening to implode in on itself.

xx

This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected it to be, so sadly... no Airachnid return just yet. I can absolutely promise that she'll be showing up in the next one, though (and Wheeljack with her ;) ).